The Chairs At The End Of The Universe

I have, for a week now, being trying to sell some chairs.

I bought these chairs in a second-hand shop a couple of years back. They’re nice and antique-looking, but I always thought they were too soft. So, with an apartment move coming up soon, I decided to get rid of them and placed an ad. Can’t be so difficult, I thought. I’ll just make them cheap, I thought. Some nice person will take them, I thought.

Well. No. Getting rid of four nice chairs for the paltry sum of 25 euros isn’t as easy as it might sound. I put the ad in last Saturday and the madness began immediately.

I had about 6 people contact me. Person 1 and 2 were interested, but not really THAT interested. Person 2 sounded most interested. She asked me if the chairs were in bad shape and needed to be fixed up. I said no. All was well until she revealed that she wanted me to drop them to her in my car. I don’t have a car, I said. I suggested she take a taxi. She said she’d get back to me.

Then person 4 expressed real interest. However, we couldn’t decide a day and time for her to come by and see them. Monday afternoon, she said. I work, I said. Okay then, Tuesday  afternoon. I work, I repeated. Okay, how about another afternoon? I WORK, I pointed out. I have a JOB to go to, which I may not leave until sufficient work had been done. Oh, she said. My brother is coming to get them with me. And he works nights.

Eventually we settled on Wednesday morning, as I’d anyway be home waiting for an official of my landlord to come by, which might happen at any time between 9.15 and 11.45. (More about that in a future post.) At 9:00 Wednesday morning I texted her to ask what time she’d arrive. No reply. At 10:00 I texted again, to say I was leaving shortly. No reply. I went to work and sent her a text calling her a lazy selfish idiot.

No reply.

Person 2 returned from the dead on Thursday and asked me again if the chairs needed to be fixed up. I said no, and anyway it’s all in the ad. Plus photos. She went away.

Next person, number 5, showed interest and wanted to come on Sunday. She suggested three. I said no. I suggested noon. She couldn’t come then. She was going to the gym. I suggested the evening. She didn’t reply. I mailed her twice on Saturday. She didn’t reply.

On Saturday person 2 texted me again. She asked if the chairs were still available. I said yes. She asked me where they were, information which is in my ad. I told her. I asked her if was really interested. She didn’t reply until four hours later, when she said: “Sorry, but I don’t remember what you had … hahaha”.

“Chairs,” I said. “You texted me four hours ago. Do you want them?”

No word until nine this morning. Her reply? “Do the chairs need to be fixed up…?”

At this point I told her I can’t fucking be arsed for 25 Euro if she can’t fucking remember anything I tell her. I’ll just throw them out. Goodbye.

To summarise: What the fuck is wrong with people? Can’t they decide what they want? Can’t they keep a promise? Can’t they show up when they are supposed to and, if not, let me know so I don’t wait for them? What the fuck is this, a sitcom?

I’ve learned my lessons though. In the future, if I sell chairs (or anything) online, I’ll ask for a lot more money. And filter out some of the crazies immediately.

Or just skip it all and set them free in the woods.

/ paddy

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The Miracle of the Bathroom Floor

I think we’ll just skip the whole “oh it’s been a while”, shall we? And it’ll probably be a while until the next one too, so get used to it.

Anyway, I simply had to inform you all (all 7 of you, at this rate) of a miraculous happening in my bathroom. After my Halloween party last weekend (and yes, it was awesome) I spotted a stain on the bathroom floor. Some combination of wine and grime, I assumed, and thought no more about it.

But last night, while sitting nearby in a contemplative mood, I looked at the stain and realised that it was more than a stain. It was, in fact, a sign. A miracle, if I may be so bold. See for yourself:

Praise be the bathroom floor tile cruciform! (Hereby know as the BFTC). But what does it mean? Has God blessed my party? Is he telling me to stop drinking wine, at least off the floor? Is he saying I should have more parties, to the glory of his name? Or is he telling me to drop everything, disarm my penis and charge, whimpering and lamenting, for the nearest monastery?

I don’t know what it means, but clearly it means something. I mean, random images cannot just appear at random, can they? What kind of universe would that be?

In the meantime, I’m waiting for the BFTC pilgrims to arrive. And if anybody wants to buy my floor on eBay, I’m ready to deal.

/ paddy

Japan Pearl Harbour Earthquake Fuckwits

It’s pretty hard to miss the news coming in from Japan. If a crushing earthquake wasn’t enough, the country was ploughed by tsunami and now faces nuclear fallout from its aging reactors. Thousands are dead, more are missing and millions are homeless. Watching the news for just five minutes is pretty heart-wrenching.

You would think the world would show its sympathy for Japan in the same way that most of us showed sympathy for the events of September 11 2001. Unfortunately this wasn’t entirely the case as shown by this image doing the rounds over the last day or two. I’ll link to the fucking thing, but I won’t give it any column inches. It’s basically a collection of retarded moronic red-neck comments made by idiot Americans on Facebook. Have a look, if you must, but hold your breath.

These brilliant samples of humanity are pointing out how the Japanese deserve this horrendous situation because of Pearl Harbour. They bombed us, yeah, de sure did, so fuck ’em. Well pass the shotgun ma there’s a squirrel on my knee and my dick is the sick of an acorn, ha-yuck.

These people. These fucking people. There’s not much to say really, is there? It’s just mind-melting that useless pieces of crap like this can live and breath and share the same planet as the rest of us. Even if their little comments were accurate, it would be a very nasty thing to say right now when the Japanese are suffering like this. However there is very little that can be considered true in their Pearl Harbour comment. Let’s just throw a few facts out there, shall we.

A good many people died at Pearly Harbour. Mostly soldiers though. Soldiers in a war. At Hiroshima and Nagasaki civilians were targeted (which I believe is called terrorism) and vastly more were killed. And there is plenty of evidence to suggest that the atomic attacks were not actually necessary to stop the war at all and were only done to show the world what the American atomic weapons could do, and also to crush Japan quickly so the USA wouldn’t have to share it with the Russians as they did with Germany. “Saving American lives” wasn’t really a consideration. It was about power and posturing, and as for dead civilians… fuck ’em.

Then of course Pearl Harbour wasn’t really part of the US at all, but annexed by them, which means basically stolen, in 1893. Do our fantastically thick Facebookers know this? No, of course they don’t. By all means, prove me wrong people, please do.

Finally, of course, being Americans, I would guess that the majority of these fine people would describe themselves as Christians. And not at all understand why that’s ironic. Because, as I’ve mentioned, they are as fucking thick as a shit slushy.

I’ve checked a few people on this image, and they do indeed have real Facebook accounts. This is possibly the most scary thing of all, that this is actually for real. If anybody wants to harass them and send them naughty words, you have my blessing. They deserve nothing less, the rancid malevolent little turds.

Ignore those morons, Japan. They don’t represent us. We promise.

/ paddy

Too Much News

Today I made the classic mistake of watching the news at breakfast. Bad idea. I am not normally know for my pleasant demeanour in the mornings, and watching that carnival of inanity pushes me way over the edge into proper “grumpy old man” territory.

Article one that lit my fuse was a collection of total fucking morons in Belgrade who turned out in their Soviet-era sweats to protest the fact that other people had the nerve to exist. In this case, they were showing their displeasure against the upcoming Pride parade. And, as homophobes always do, the people interviewed went on about “traditional values” and “family values” and “religious values” and other such steaming horse shit to justify their actions.

I mean, when will these people grow a pair and actually say what they are thinking instead of just hiding behind religion and tradition? Fucking tossers. I would have much more respect for them if they turned out with signs simply saying “I Hate Homos”. Fucking cowards and fucking idiots all in one, with their tiny piggy eyes and their big penile compensation signs. It almost makes me glad that there is no heaven as, if there were, I might have to share it with gobshites like that.

Article two that inflamed my wrath is this one. A divorced man in Sweden takes his two kids and hoofs it. The article tells us there is a risk he might take the kids illegally back to his own country and then asks for our help in looking out for them. Whereupon the “journalists” tell us what kind of dress the little girl is wearing and then stop talking. They completely don’t tell us what the guy looks like, surely the most important piece of data here. They have pretty much told us he is not a white Swede, but then don’t dare to tell us his actual appearance.

This, I imagine, comes from the classic Swedish fear of being portrayed a racist. But in this case, I just don’t get it. Just what is wrong with saying “It’s a Middle-Eastern dude” or “It’s a Kenyan dude” or “It’s a white dude from South Africa” or whatever. Don’t they want the kids to be found? And, if so, shouldn’t they actually just give us the info and let us make our own minds up?

Seriously, saying that the dude is from country X and looks like Y is not racism. If the press really cared about those kids being found, and not just about looking PC, then they would tell us. But I guess they don’t. It’s just news, something to fill the seconds with.

I could go on, oh yes I could, on and on and on. But I won’t. There’s a nice day ahead full of things that won’t annoy me, so I’ll think about them instead. And I’ll have my trusty TV-B-Gone at the ready, just in case a TV tries to sneak up on me when I least expect it.

/ paddy

Big Bad Burger Bar

I am watching at this very moment (yes, this VERY MOMENT) a Swedish documentary about working conditions in McDonalds.

They show the usual horror stories, in the usual horror-story fashion. How for example “old” food is kept longer than it should, how employees are paid less than they work, and how worker’s rights are regularly stamped upon. An hour is spent, talking to lots of people, with scary music in the background. All to make us angry or upset or something.

Now, any regular readers of mine will suspect where this is going next. Let’s see now, he describes the situation, he builds it up, he piles on the irony… and oh yes, then he starts swearing. So let’s do it!

Come away, O human child! To the waters and the wild. With a faery, hand in hand. For the world's more full of weeping than you can understand.

Excuse me, you complete dicks, what exactly do you expect here? You go to a place that offers really cheap bad-quality food, and you complain that they are cheating you? You pay fuck-all for your carbohydrate stodge but you still expect the staff to be buzzing about behind the counter, on gold-plated Segways, wearing goofy smiles from all the free high-quality coke they disperse for free in the staff bathroom?

McDonalds is cheap. It’s their thing. Do people think that this can be accomplished without exploiting somebody along the way? The workers, the suppliers, the growers? Yes, McDonalds simply desires to serve us with cheap, high-quality food while making the world a happy place, and to hell with the profit margins. Sure they do.

Now go bite the other one, it’s got bells on.

These moaners are like the people who complain about glass in their chicken, or meat-glue in their sausages, while at the same time expecting the slop they buy in their supermarkets to be as cheap as possible. You want cheap food, you got it. Tasty, isn’t it?

Seriously, get a fucking grip people. You pay shit, you get shit. What part of this is so difficult to follow? If you want good food and good workers conditions, then don’t go to Mc fucking Donalds just to moan about it. Go to a real restaurant, or make it your fucking self.

Clever, snappy and ironic summing-up line of some sort. You know the drill.

/ paddy

Doing it Wrong

I am never sure if I should be pleased or annoyed when other people spot the same things that I spot. Like, for example, those “doing it wrong” clips on TV shopping ads.

You know the ones I mean. Let’s say they are trying to sell you a new chopping knife and, as an indication of how your life will improve, they show you a hand-cam, black and white clip of some complete fucking moron who can’t do any basic task without getting everything on the floor, up her nose and in her underwear.

These clips usually end with the stressed sweaty women blowing a sprig of hair from her face with a wistful expression. If only life could be better, she thinks. If only I weren’t such an enormous waste of space. If only I had a special salad-chopping machine or a tiny vacuum cleaner or a grill endorsed by a boxer.

These clips are enthralling. They show people who are so utterly hopeless that they should never be allowed to leave their own bedrooms, and then only if their bedrooms have no sharp edges or heavy objects.

And now some genius has made a wonderful compilation of the best ones. So here we have it, the “doing it wrong” compilation. And let me just warn you – the pace is frenetic, the cutting is relentless and the idiocy is completely off the scale.

Makes you want to buy just about everything ever made, doesn’t it? And if you buy it all RIGHT NOW, we will give you a free planet to put it on. So call now, lines are open until the end of time.

/ paddy